Revenge Wears My Ring novel Chapter 202

Her voice, shrill with shock and spiraling out of control, pierced the air—so jarring and out of place in the otherwise elegant and tranquil dining room that every head turned.

Around them, diners at nearby tables glanced over, their eyes flickering with surprise, curiosity, and the unmistakable glint of disdain.

Bennett simply stood there, calmly watching her lose composure, watching as she became the unwilling center of attention. His eyes betrayed no emotion, as though he were observing a scene from a play that had nothing to do with him.

It took Serena a few seconds to fully grasp what she’d done.

Mortification flooded her cheeks with heat. She wanted nothing more than to sink through the floor and disappear.

Frantically, she darted her gaze around the room, taking in the stares. Her body stiffened as she sank awkwardly back into her chair, her voice trembling, incredulous, and barely holding together.

“Wait… Bennett… you—you’re joking, right? You can’t possibly have a wife. How… how could I not know?”

She clung desperately to the last thread of hope, willing this to be nothing more than a ploy to get rid of her.

Bennett looked at her pale face and the panic in her eyes. A barely-there, icy smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth.

He didn’t bother to answer. Instead, he checked his watch, as though confirming the time, then gave her a polite, detached nod—a gesture colder and more final than any words.

“Ms. Fletcher, thank you for dinner. I’ll take my leave.”

With that, he turned away without so much as a backward glance. Steady and unhurried, he crossed the room, the restaurant manager seeing him out with practiced deference, while dozens of curious and judgmental eyes followed his every move as he strode out of the Cloudview Resort’s revolving restaurant.

Serena was left sitting alone, frozen in her ornate chair, facing a glass of lemon water that had long since lost its chill and a box of carefully prepared “TT” cookies that now seemed utterly pointless.

The whispers swirling around her felt like needles pricking at her skin.

Her meticulously planned “romantic dinner” had turned into a public humiliation.

She felt like a clown stripped of all her finery, exposed to the scornful gaze of the crowd.

She stared after Bennett’s retreating figure, her nails digging crescent moons into her palms, drawing blood.

Not until his silhouette finally vanished did the full weight of humiliation and fury ignite in her chest, burning with poisonous intensity in her eyes.

Suddenly, she seized the ornate box of cookies and hurled it to the ground.

Crack.

The exquisite packaging shattered, golden cookies spilling everywhere—her pride and her carefully woven dreams, broken and scattered for all to see.

A wife… He actually has a wife?

Who is this so-called “wife” anyway?

And he even seemed to care about her.

Impossible. A man as cold as Bennett couldn’t possibly be married so young.

He’s just trying to avoid trouble.

Clearly, she’d been too pushy.

———

When Bennett got home, the Boyd family’s villa was lit up, though there was a strange, almost expectant hush in the air.

“Welcome home, sir!”

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